


Lazy Mornings

by Mysenia



Series: Tumblr Prompt Fills 2015 [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anxiety, Domestic Fluff, M/M, Multi, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-21
Updated: 2015-07-21
Packaged: 2018-04-10 13:22:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4393514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysenia/pseuds/Mysenia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anonymous asked: Stetopher and a lazy morning please!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lazy Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> The panic attack is at the beginning and is not described in depth, it is also a mild panic attack.

Peter has a hard time in the mornings. He’s afraid he’ll open his eyes and be stuck again, his body broken and unresponsive. Afraid that he’s dreamed his life up to the point where it is now, where he’s actually happy. So he likes to squeeze his eyes shut, pretend for those moments that all is well, that his dreams are his reality.   


Not every morning is bad. Most mornings he wakes up surrounded by warmth, his soul swelling because of the proximity to his two lovers. He’ll be held down by limbs but they don’t scare him, he knows the weight of Stiles’ arm or Chris’ leg. It’s a soothing kind of weight.   


On those bad mornings though, where he flinches when his eyes open, he can’t help but curl up. Even the relief at being able to move doesn’t ease the anxiety gaining rapidly in his body. He’s already too plagued by nightmares flashing behind his eyes to rationalize that he’s okay. That he’s healed.

Warm bodies press in on either side of him, called by the steady whimpers he’s unknowingly letting out. They cradle him, their bodies and words putting back together the broken pieces of him. They let him shake and cling to them, dry eyes finally opening on a relieved sigh.   


On these mornings they pull him out of bed, the need for him to be up paramount. He pulls on loose sweats and a baggy tee shirt, needing the cover of clothes but nothing tight. Stiles joins him, shedding his jeans in favour of sweats and Chris just laughs at the two of them - he stays in his jeans and tee shirt, saying he’s comfortable enough as is.   


Chris makes his way to the kitchen to cook some pancakes. “I know they’re your favourite Peter but I swear you’re going to turn _into_ a pancake if you eat anymore.”

Stiles burst out laughing. “No! No Chris, he wants _us_ to turn into pancakes so he can devour us.”

“You mean I don’t do that already?” Peter chuckles, grabbing Stiles and pulling him into his chest, nipping at his ear. Stiles can’t contain his giggles, curling forward around Peter’s arms as he lets the wolf take his weight.   


Chris just smiles at their antics as he continues to make the batter. Peter starts to growl, pretending to try to eat Stiles and Stiles lets out a shriek, momentarily disarming Peter, and he darts away. Peter can hear Chris laughing as he gives chase.

Stiles does not try to run far, only making it so far as the couch before he collapses onto it and rolls on his back, arms spread in invitation to Peter. There’s no hesitation in Peter as he pounces, being careful to not squish the pliant human underneath him.   


Peter’s body is finally loose, muscles relaxed, and so he lets himself sag onto Stiles. Strong arms hold him close as they trade lazy kisses, the sun their warming blanket. Even stuck beneath Peter, Stiles isn’t a still person, rubbing his feet up along Peter’s calf.   


Peter rumbles, swept up in the wonder of freely given touches - even after all the time they’ve been together. Stiles breaks their kisses to place a soft peck to Peter’s nose and he laughs, leaning down to rub his nose along Stiles’.

That’s how Chris finds them, trading eskimo kisses, when he tells them the food is ready. Chris gives Peter’s butt a spank when he thinks they aren’t moving fast enough and darts away barely quick enough to avoid Peter’s hand. The hunter laughs as he makes his way back to the kitchen.

The smell of the pancakes finally breaks through to Peter and he gets to his feet, pulling Stiles up along with him. He slings Stiles along his back and they make their way to the food.   


Chris’ ability to dish up a mountain of pancakes in next to no time will never fail to amaze Peter. He grabs up the hunter’s chin and kisses him, long and languid, wanting to soak up the tastes of the three of them mixing in his mouth. Stiles’ squawk of “ _FOOD_ “ has them breaking apart and he drops Stiles to his feet.

Their table is round with a little foot stool in the center where the table is being held up. As they pile their plates high with pancakes and syrup, peanut butter for Stiles because apparently, “ _That’s the best way to eat pancakes Peter, I swear!_ ”, they tangle their feet up together on the little platform. It’s not footsie, more just touching, and it anchors them all.   


The pancakes are gone in short order, Peter having eaten 10, Stiles having eaten 7, and Chris having eaten 4. There are no leftovers and the clean up takes next to no time between Peter and Stiles, Chris having been shoved out of the kitchen because he’s the one who cooked.   


When the kitchen is spotless the two of them go in search of Chris though they both have a pretty good idea of where they’ll find him. Peter scoops up his sunglasses on the way and Stiles his baseball cap. As predicted Chris is relaxing back with a book in hand on the hammock in their backyard.   


Stiles had bought it one day on a whim and nagged at Chris until he’d strung it up between two trees, and now Chris was the one who used it the most. On mornings like this however, they all three of them used it, Peter and Stiles crawling onto it, jostling Chris until they were all comfortable.   


The tree’s shaded it just enough that the warmth of the day didn’t bother them as they all leaned on to each other. Stiles closed his eyes and immediately dropped off, soft sounding snores escaping his parted lips. Chris propped open his book again, using Stiles’ chest as a prop to hold his book in place, his arms cradled around the young man’s head.   


Peter closed his eyes but not to sleep. He soaked up the smells of Chris and Stiles mixing in with the freshness of the outdoors. Outside, where nothing was the same as his enforced stillness, Peter could close his eyes and just be in the moment, and so he did just that.

He knew in a few hours they would get up for more food but for now he didn’t worry about anything. Everything he could want was within reach. Never again would he be frozen in a shell and alone, and that made lazy mornings just like this one all the more beautiful.   


**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think.
> 
> ~ M


End file.
